


And I Was Just a Stone

by unknown_knowns



Series: Catharsis [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange: Before The Storm (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But I take some liberties, Chloe POV, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Major Farewell spoilers, Pretty feelsy, also I guess minor BtS e1 spoilers, but it gets easier later on, heavy read if you care about chloe at all, mostly canon, probably don't read this one, since she kinda just falls apart, takes you from farewell to BtS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknown_knowns/pseuds/unknown_knowns
Summary: William is gone.Max is gone.Chloe kind of doesn't know how to handle that.And she falls apart.But some light, at the end, keeps her alive.





	And I Was Just a Stone

All at once, Chloe was alone.

Chloe sat on her bed, and looked around her room to her various things, but nothing drew her attention.

What was the point of playing pirates.

What was the point of photography.

What was the point of drawing.

What was the point of anything, anymore?

She laid back with a frustrated sound and looked at her ceiling absent-mindedly.

Damn.

Nothing, just …

She just felt empty, alone, and cold.

This sucked.

She turned more to lay onto her side after a few seconds and saw some car magazine sitting pretty right in front of her face.

She blinked, and carefully picked it up to look at some of the pages inside.

Chloe always kind of liked cars, even if it wasn’t “girly” enough or whatever.

Her dad ---

Damn it.

Chloe suddenly closed her eyes tightly and tossed the damn magazine as far away as she could.

It made some pathetic sound as it smacked against one of her walls.

She tried to steady herself from the tears that were coming but couldn’t.

Instead she just rolled over onto her back again and tightly crossed her arms.

Hugging at herself, basically.

This sucked even more …

What could she do?

Just not think about him?

Is that how she was going to avoid feeling this bad?

This was so unfair.

What did she do to deserve her dad dying?

What did she do to deserve Max leaving her?

After some undignified crying, and the moment passed, Chloe sighed and got off her bed.

The reminders were … going to be really painful.

She slowly walked over to where she had tossed the magazine, and with a sigh, picked it up.

Instead of looking inside, and being haunted, she curled it up and walked over to her desk.

It went in there instead.

No reminders.

Maybe in some period of time she could think about this stuff.

But for now, it was just … too painful.

Too fresh.

Too raw.

As she closed the drawer with a bit too much energy, she looked up and ---

Ugh.

Her dad’s camera was right there …

She picked it up with a frown and put it away in the desk somewhere, too.

Somewhere deep, and under a lot of other random garbage, so it wouldn’t be seen ever again.

When she closed this drawer, she just sighed and crossed her arms again, hugging at herself once more.

She looked around her room.

There were … a lot of reminders of things.

She couldn’t possibly hide all of them, could she?

What would her room even be without the things she and Max created together?

What would her room even be without the things her dad got her into?

What would Chloe even be without them?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tapping on her door.

Chloe sighed wearily.

“Come in.”

Her voice did not sound good, though, still a little raw from crying earlier, and the emotional difficulty she was going through now.

The door gently opened to reveal, of course, her mother.

She too had been crying lately, and she had a very somber smile at looking at her daughter.

“Sweetie … is everything alright?”

Her mother took a few steps into the room, looked around it briefly, but then kept walking until she was right in front of Chloe.

Chloe crossed her arms and looked down.

She just grunted in response.

Joyce sighed, and placed her hand on Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe sort of shuffled away from the touch, and looked away, off to one of her walls.

Joyce bit her lip so harshly she thought she was going to make it bleed.

It was one thing to lose her husband, it was another thing entirely to lose her whole family.

And Chloe …

Chloe had been shutting down these past few days.

Especially since the funeral.

Especially since Max leaving.

Joyce cleared her throat.

“I heard you were … crying.”

Chloe just grunted, and didn’t look up or anything.

Joyce sadly lowered her hand and accepted, for now, her daughter didn’t want the touch.

“And it’s … normal, to grieve, it really is ---”

Chloe finally looked up, and her face was raw, and it was angry, but it was this sort of emotional anger, where she sounded as though she was so close to crying with every word.

“--- nothing is fucking normal about this! _Nothing_!”

She took a few steps back and made an irritated gesture, afterwards letting her arms rest by her side uneasily in sort of tight fists.

Her mother flinched at the words and raised a hand up to rub at her own temples.

She didn’t even bother to engage with Chloe on the language, since she knew emotions were very difficult right now.

Instead, she just looked down to the floor.

“Chloe, please, I know you ---”

Chloe still didn’t let her get a word in edge wise.

“--- no. You don’t know … _anything_ … about how I feel right now.”

Damn it.

Fuck.

Shit.

Joyce sniffled, and she tried to be as strong as she could in front of her daughter, since Chloe needed it right now, but this hurt on a level she didn’t even know was possible.

Her and Chloe always had a good relationship.

Loving.

Communicative.

This … this anger, wasn’t her daughter.

Her daughter was happy.

Silly.

Playful.

Energetic.

Just like her father.

That thought then broke Joyce’s mental barrier on the situation, and her sniffle turned into a proper tear, and she turned to her side to hide her misery from Chloe.

Chloe just watched her cry with her own tears being added to the situation, since these emotions were so raw and so overpowering she couldn’t help herself.

And she didn’t … want to be mean to her mother.

She just – she didn’t know.

She was scared.

She felt so helpless here and now.

Without Max, without her Dad –

Chloe wasn’t really anything.

Her mother accepted she wasn’t going to break through to Chloe right now, and decided to walk away.

She paused at Chloe’s door, though, and after taking in a deep and extremely difficult breath, she looked behind herself back at Chloe.

“Maybe I don’t … but … if you want to tell me … I’ll listen. I promise.”

She looked forward, and shakily added,

“Please …”

Before reaching over to Chloe’s door and closing the door behind her as she left.

 

When the door closed, Chloe sniffled and brought her hands up to shield her face.

She cried for another few seconds, then groaned and brought her hands back down to tight fists, and she sort of jumped up and down on her heels for a few seconds, and she miserably sealed her eyes closed with her tears as she looked to her ceiling.

What was she doing?

Chloe felt even more confused when her emotions guided her to this anger and frustration.

That wasn’t normal.

Usually they …

Chloe breathed in harshly, and tried to calm herself down a little bit.

The constant crying just left her with this awful tension headache and it felt as though tears could come at any point, now.

She looked back down from her ceiling and looked back to her desk.

A lot of the anger just left her immediately when she saw Max’s last recording to her.

She untightened her fists and after starting at it for a second or two, slowly made her way over to the recording.

She brought the tape recorder up.

_i’m sorry_

This was … difficult to listen to.

And Chloe had listened to it a lot these past few days.

Ever since the funeral, basically, at least once a day.

And somehow, she smiled just barely, with the anger totally gone by now.

Max was gone but … maybe not really gone.

Like she said.

They were going to try and keep in touch, right?

That’s the plan.

It’d be like she never even left.

Her breath was shaky as she closed her eyes and hugged the recording to herself tightly.

She hugged it as though it were Max herself, and tried to squeeze the very air out of it.

To no avail, of course.

Fuck.

After a few seconds of this, Chloe put the tape recorder down, and numbly pulled out her phone.

_hey max_

She sent it a few days ago, already, to Max.

With no response.

But …

She was moving, and stuff.

She probably had a lot of busy, stressful things to take care of.

Unpacking.

Settling in.

All of that stuff …

She was going to respond, eventually.

Chloe knew it.

She knew it and it kept her fucking sane, for now.

This was … difficult, emotional _bullshit_ , but as soon as Max was settled-in, for sure, she would call.

Or write a letter.

Or send an e-mail.

Or text.

Something.

Anything.

She would snoop like she always did about Chloe’s emotional state and what was going on with her life.

Just like she did right up and until the day of the accident …

Maybe Chloe couldn’t talk to her mother about this, but she sure could talk to Max about it.

That would be her plan.

She just needed to wait this out – keep herself together long enough for Max to pick up the phone.

Even they were apart, they were still Max and Chloe.

 

It just seemed so impossible, especially with school picking up again soon …

But she had to try.

Right?

 

For now, Chloe just made her way to her bed like a zombie and crashed on it.

She’d been doing a lot of sleeping these days, yet she still somehow always felt tired.

Whatever.

It was better than dealing with these bullshit emotions.

Chloe tried to clear her mind and just relax.

Sleep.

Her mother would understand that she just needed the space to work through this.

With Max.

Everything would be … okay … eventually …

It had to be.

Right?

 

The next few days did not get much better.

Going back to school mostly just … sucked.

There wasn’t really anything fun about it, anymore.

She did all of the motions.

She went to her classes.

She did her homework.

She answered questions when they were asked of her.

She even read the material.

But it just … it just felt different, now.

This used to be fun.

Chloe used to love learning new stuff.

Engaging with chemistry, with her teachers, with everything.

Now …

Things were different.

One of the most profound ways things were different came up to her in chemistry class, one day.

Maybe three weeks later.

Chloe wasn’t really keeping track, anymore.

Marisa Rogers came up to Chloe’s table.

Chloe kept looking at her beaker.

She just had to –

Marisa placed both of her hands on Chloe’s table and leaned towards her.

“I heard you got Saturday school for what you did to me.”

Chloe didn’t respond.

She just had to –

Marisa continued,

“Do you even _know_ what I went through when you almost burned me? Like? Hello?”

She raised a hand up to knock obnoxiously on Chloe’s head.

This, finally, got Chloe pausing and looking up to her.

Marisa hesitated when Chloe just had this … cold, done look.

It wasn’t like her from before.

It was a little unsettling.

Marisa carefully pulled her hand back away from Chloe’s head and crossed her arms.

Quiet.

It was kind of awkward.

Chloe didn’t say anything.

Marisa blinked.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying? Or do scholarship kids have trouble with English?”

Chloe frowned.

Her grip tightened on her beaker.

Marisa didn’t notice.

Instead, she just smirked.

“Or maybe … dad’s got your tongue?”

No.

That was –

Fuck this bitch.

“Don’t you talk about my dad you ---"

Chloe _slammed_ her beaker down on her table and _stood_ up and she _shoved_ Marisa away and she –

“--- Chloe Price!”

Chloe paused, as Marisa was horrified and shoved back to the row of table behind her.

Chloe looked to the teacher who had shouted her name and blinked,

“She was ---”

The teacher just shook her head.

“--- to the Principal’s office. _Now_.”

Chloe blinked.

She was the one getting bullied, yet she was the one getting punished?

Her mouth just kind of awkwardly gaped as she processed the news.

How more unfair could things possibly fucking get for her?

The teacher frowned more intently and crossed her arms.

“ _Now._ ”

With a sigh, Chloe slowly melted, and the anger left her.

She shoved her hands into her jean’s pockets and slouched as she painfully walked out of the chemistry class room.

Marisa watched her go, and although her shock kept her from snark in the immediate aftermath, it only lasted so long.

Chloe heard a “bye Felicia” from her as she opened the door leading out of the class room.

She spared one more look at Marisa, who was so smug, and Chloe just …

She sighed, and admitted defeat by walking out of the class room without anything in rebuttal.

 

A scene then played out which came to be more familiar as the days passed.

She sat in the office, she stewed, she made her case –

And she was ignored.

She was sided against.

She was punished.

As the days turned to weeks, and Max still didn’t contact Chloe, it all started to wear down on her.

She was never the one in the right.

She was never the one the principal trusted.

She was never the one that could defend herself.

Slowly, she just accepted this is how the world was to her, now.

 

Unfair.

 

So, she started caring less.

And less.

And less.

And less.

 

It was maybe a month later when Chloe was sitting in her room, staring at her ceiling.

This wasn’t new.

Her mother knocked, forcefully, on her door.

 _That_ was new.

Chloe didn’t respond to it, though.

She kept staring at her ceiling and listening to music.

Music was the only thing that understood her, anymore.

Music was the only thing that didn’t yell at her for being moody or difficult or an asshole.

In fact, music encouraged her.

She could hear like-minded souls on these tracks, desperate to be heard and appreciated.

Joyce eventually stopped knocking and just opened the door.

Chloe looked down at her just for a second or two.

Joyce looked exhausted from work and rubbed at her forehead as she walked over to Chloe’s hi-fi and turned it off.

Chloe just grumbled and looked back to her ceiling.

Joyce sighed, and breathed in deep, and spent a few seconds collecting herself.

She considered how she wanted to have this conversation.

She knew she was losing Chloe, but … she didn’t know how to reverse this process.

She didn’t know what words she could tell her to help her get through her grief and stop acting out.

Maybe the words didn’t even exist.

Joyce sure hadn’t gotten over William in this time.

Finally, she removed her hand from her forehead and carefully walked to sit down on the chair in front of Chloe’s desk.

She turned to face Chloe.

“Chloe, dear …”

And she tried to make her voice as gentle and concerned as possible.

Chloe looked over to her with a neutral expression for a second or two, then grunted and turned on her side, facing away.

Joyce bit her lip.

It hurt so badly to see Chloe turn away.

To see her act out in desperation.

To see her get angry instead of happy.

To see her get sad instead of energetic.

And she felt like such a failure that she couldn’t even comfort her own daughter – or herself – about William’s loss.

She even had to start working more just to make ends meet around the house and –

She barely even saw Chloe anymore.

This wasn’t sustainable.

Something had to give.

She just hoped it wasn’t Chloe breaking, or running away, or herself breaking.

She had to be strong.

She _had_ to be strong.

Chloe deserved it.

She deserved so, so much …

Joyce sighed and decided to push Chloe for more, more out of personal desperation than some carefully calculated manipulation.

She got up from her seat and sat down on the other side of Chloe, but sat off the edge of the bed, facing away from her.

She leaned forward, as though a heavy emotional stone was on her back and simply crushing her.

“I think about your father every single day. Y’hear?”

Joyce expected yet another grunt, but instead Chloe hesitated, and sighed.

“I do too …”

Joyce blinked.

That’s the most Chloe had opened in a while.

With a heavy, difficult smile, and her voice a little uneven now, Joyce carefully turned around and placed her hand affectionately on Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe didn’t rebuke it, this time.

Joyce ran her thumb back and forth in her affection while she looked down to her poor traumatized daughter.

“But … you can’t just … give up on things, sweetie … there’s so much more to life …”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed.

“Like working all day at a diner, or … having your best friend ignore you, or … being bullied constantly at school. Right.”

Joyce bit her own lip harshly.

She wasn’t planning on Max not talking to Chloe and while she didn’t understand Max’s reasoning, she wondered if it had something to do with William.

Max had always been a little awkward at expressing herself, but this seemed quite extreme, even for her.

She hoped it was temporary …

Maybe next month?

When Joyce finished processing this, she breathed out harshly.

“Life isn’t just about suffering. There’s good parts, too … just sometimes, it’s hard to find …”

Chloe scoffed, but turned to lay on her back.

Joyce’s hand moved with her.

Chloe’s eyes were red, and irritated, and it was clear she had been crying a lot.

It usually was.

It was pretty difficult to look at, but Joyce needed to be strong for her daughter.

Chloe deserved it.

But Chloe was also frowning, slightly.

She was looking at Joyce, at least.

“What can possibly be good about … all of this … _bullshit_?”

Joyce sighed.

“Language, dear.”

Chloe grunted and rolled her eyes.

Joyce then squeezed Chloe’s shoulder.

“I don’t know. And I know you don’t want to hear that, but … the Lord works in some mighty mysterious ways sometimes.”

Joyce watched Chloe’s face fall even more, and she immediately felt like such a failure, again.

That must have been the wrong thing to say.

Chloe sniffled a little and looked away, off to one of her walls.

Joyce bit her lip, and –

She had to do _something_ to comfort Chloe –

“We’re both just waiting for the good times to –”

Chloe scoffed, and it was a sobbing sort of thing, and it was heart-breaking to hear, and she sat up, facing away from her mother, and she brought her knees up to her chest and she so tightly hugged at herself.

Joyce tried to follow her with her hand but Chloe shook it off.

She tried again, but Chloe shook it off again, with another sobbing scoffing noise.

“--- Mom, please … just … stop.”

Joyce held her hand sadly just hovering over Chloe’s shoulder, desperate to land it, but knowing the more she pushed and the more Chloe rejected her, the more it would hurt her personally emotionally.

She was already pretty close to breaking.

So with a miserable sigh, Joyce looked forward again, and brought her hands into her lap.

“Okay …”

And it was such a sad thing.

Such a pained thing.

But what could she do?

Joyce stood up, and tried to calm her breathing, since it was still difficult and uneven, and crossed her arms.

“Just … please. For me. Don’t give up.”

Chloe hesitated, but didn’t respond.

She just buried her face in her knees and started to cry.

And it was so difficult to hear and watch … Joyce just couldn’t handle it right now.

Chloe didn’t want her comfort, anyway …

Relegating herself to the status of an awful parent, Joyce hung her head and slowly left Chloe’s room.

She closed the door gently.

She kept her head bowed as she walked into her own room.

She closed that door gently, too.

She carefully sat down on the edge of her own bed, slowly took out the picture she had of her once-happy family, and just broke down.

 

Joyce left the picture on the nightstand when she went to work the next day.

The reminder was just too painful.

 

\---

 

It was maybe two months later when Chloe got her first message from Max.

It was short and simple, but it meant everything in the world.

_Hey Chloe! I’m sorry I haven’t responded earlier. Things have been really crazy. I hope you’re okay._

Chloe smiled so brightly at the idea of Max being back in her life she wanted to squeeze her phone as though it were Max.

She quickly tapped out a response.

_how’re things, quiet max?_

Chloe didn’t care if she didn’t get a response back quickly.

Max was back.

It suddenly was a lot easier to breathe, and Chloe immediately dreamed up ways she would talk to Max about everything.

They had so, so much to talk about …

For now, Chloe put her phone away and just went about her day.

That was a good day.

Those were rare.

 

It was maybe three months later when Chloe got her second message from Max.

_Sorry sorry sorry. Things are just so busy. I’m so bad at this sorry. Maybe we should switch to e-mail? I’m better at responding there._

Having Max take so long to respond wasn’t … easy on Chloe.

It felt like a broken promise.

Max was supposed to treat this just like before.

Things were supposed to be exactly like before.

This wasn’t exactly like before.

This wasn’t even close.

But Chloe was trying to be understanding.

She had certainly changed after her dad died, and pretty much everyone treated her differently now.

By now, she had established a reputation for being kind of careless, but also kind of badass.

She was a regular in the Principal’s office for this and that, these and those. No one knows, Chloe the least of which to know.

Chloe was kind of okay with the reputation.

It mostly meant people left her alone.

They knew if they tried to pick on her about her dad or something they might get a fist to the face.

Her mother was continually disappointed, but that’s just what Chloe was, now.

A continual disappointment.

A constant headache.

A tooth out-of-line.

She cared less about her school grades, she did worse on her tests, she studied less.

Her grades were slipping.

Her teachers were concerned.

She didn’t care.

All she did was concern people.

All she did was disappoint people.

All she was was wasted potential.

Maybe Max had transformed in some way like that, too.

Maybe that’s why she was taking so long to respond.

Maybe she wasn’t Chloe’s friend, anymore …

The thought was difficult, but hard to shake out of her head.

Chloe trusted Max, and if she came back tomorrow or started talking immediately, Chloe would take her back in a heart beat.

But there was doubt.

She just had to pretend there wasn’t, and that everything was fine.

She just had to pretend.

So Chloe sighed at the message, and although it took longer to respond, she did manage in a few minutes.

_it’s okay. don't beat yourself up over this. we can try e-mail, too. i'll hit you up when I get home_

When she put her phone away, she was less happy.

But she could pretend this would be the thing that got Max to talk to her.

So her day was still … okay.

Not that great, but the hope kept Chloe putting one foot in front of the other.

She just had to get home and e-mail Max, and then Max would probably take a little bit to respond, but she’d still be talking more regularly.

This would still work.

Max would remember how awesome it is to talk to Chloe, and she would want to talk more.

Yeah.

When Chloe got home, she wrote a nice long e-mail detailing how much she missed Max.

She didn’t bring up difficult bullshit like her dad … yet, but she wanted to.

She smiled when she sent it.

Max would respond.

Chloe knew it.

 

It was fully half a year later when Max responded to the e-mail.

For a while, Chloe just sat on her seat, dreading opening it.

She was worried it was another … non-message.

Another apology that just … didn’t satisfy.

Chloe felt so pathetic she cared so much about this, but she did.

She _needed_ Max, more than she even thought she knew, and although she put on a brave face all of that time ago … this was basically what she was dreading was going to happen.

Total silence might have been easier, even, since then Chloe could tell herself Max lost her phone, or maybe she was at some kind of … whatever the winter version of summer camp is.

She could pretend, that way.

This way, though … it was harder to pretend.

When she saw for herself just how little effort Max was putting into staying her friend.

When she saw how little she cared.

Chloe looked away from the screen to Max’s tape recording.

_i'm sorry._

Are you, Max?

Are you?

Fuck.

Chloe hated these doubts.

They were such bullshit.

Everything was such bullshit.

Everything.

Chloe was hoping, praying even, that Max would be her life raft in this sea of sorrow.

Maybe imperfect, maybe it would be hard, maybe Max would suck at talking and it’d be kind of cute how much she sucked, but …

Ugh.

Chloe looked away from the tape recorder and opened the message.

But she immediately regretted it.

Since she couldn’t pretend Max cared for her, anymore, whence she saw the simple, one-line of e-mail Max returned to her.

The line she always gave to her.

Apologies, excuses, and nothing.

A bunch of fucking nothing.

All of their time together –

All of the memories they created –

All of the difficult conversations they had had –

None of it –

Chloe whimpered and banged her head down against her desk.

One of her hands tightened into a fist and she raised and slammed it down on the desk a few times as the tears started to come.

Fuck.

 

None of it mattered to Max, anymore.

 

Chloe’s anguish, her suffering … nothing.

Fuck.

She whimpered and she felt so alone and so scared and –

She peeled herself off of her desk and stared daggers at that fucking tape recorder.

That fucking tape recorder.

Max’s undying love was on that tape.

But it was a fucking lie.

Chloe’s other fist tightened up and she stood up harshly, with her chair making a sudden screeching noise as it roughly grinded against the floor underneath.

Fuck this.

While there were still tears in her eyes and while her breathing was still shaky, Chloe wasn’t pathetic.

She was angry.

Betrayed.

She grabbed that fucking tape recorder and she –

She pulled the tape out from it –

She threw the worthless tape recorder to the other side of the room, hoping it shattered –

She practically growled as she hooked her finger through some of the tape –

She fucking ruined it.

She pulled the tape all out, she twisted it, she distorted it –

She threw it to the other side of the room, where the tape recorder was, and just breathed severely for a few seconds.

It felt good.

 

 

At first.

 

[("Let's Pretend" - Miya Folick)  
](https://open.spotify.com/track/5oPk2FjHC9BCHVWp6jz0qv?si=Vfve1NLbSbCUDPR3xzs-MA)

 

One, two, three, four seconds passed, then Chloe realized what she had just done.

That might be very well the last she would ever hear Max’s voice … and in her anger, she just ruined it.

The anger just sort of all bled out of her in an instant, and she whimpered.

Fuck.

Chloe quickly got over to the tape and she –

“No, no no ---"

She tried to wind it back up a little but she –

“---- No-no-nono –"

She fucking knew how pointless this was and she –

“--- No! Nono no! C’mon, fuckin --- no! ---"

She got some fucking tears on the tape and she –

Chloe couldn’t compose herself anymore.

She just broke into pathetic sobbing.

 

Chloe fucked everything up.

This was all her fault.

How pathetic was she.

This is all she ever did.

All she was ever worth.

Just some fuck up.

And now, in her fuck-up anger, she ruined one of the last good things in her life.

She welded her eyes closed with her tears and brought the tape to her chest.

She hugged it so tightly.

So very very tightly.

She tried to calm herself down but she just couldn’t.

 

She cried for a while.

 

But she knew, eventually, the tears would stop, and the numbness would come.

The headache from her emotional exertion.

The stress.

The doubts.

And they did stop, and they did come, many minutes later.

With a shaky, miserable, low voice, Chloe pulled the tape away from her chest and just looked at it.

“I’m s-sorry … Max … f-fuck … fuck!”

 

Chloe did manage to get all of the tape back in, but it was still ruined.

Still, she put the tape and the recorder away, and didn’t intend on throwing it out.

She didn’t give a fuck what her mother or anyone else said.

She was going to keep that for the rest of her life if she had to.

 

From then on out, Chloe didn’t get angry when Max took forever to respond.

She just tried to understand and give her the space she apparently wanted.

And try and understand what she must have done to make Max not want to talk to her anymore.

This had to be her fault, right?

She was a fuckup.

So this had to be her fault, somehow.

She’d eventually find the right words and apologize to Max for whatever she did and –

Everything would be fine.

Chloe had the vague feeling she was lying to herself, but she needed to pretend.

 

So she did.

She was getting good at it.

She responded in an anodyne manner to Max’s e-mail and asked to schedule a phone call or something.

Chloe didn’t really expect a meaningful answer.

But so long as she tried, she could pretend.

 

It was maybe a year later when Chloe was … managing.

By now, Chloe had cut her hair shorter.

Wasn’t any particular reason for it.

She just liked it shorter.

It felt right.

She wore baggier clothes – some from the men’s section – and stopped bothering with a lot of that girly crap.

Her mother gave her a talk about how she looked, but it was like any other talk her mother gave to her.

She tuned it out.

She didn’t care.

She was going to dress and look how she wanted to.

It was one of the few things in her life she actually had control over, and one of the few things she didn’t fuck up.

Thinking about her dad still hurt, a lot, but there were less active tears.

Just a sort of hazy numbness.

She felt the world rushing past her, people who cared so much about what was going on and what they were doing, and what others thought of them.

Chloe couldn’t keep up.

So she didn’t even try to.

She just existed.

Day by day.

Hour by hour.

Minute by minute.

 

It was two years later when Chloe gave up on a lot more things.

She didn’t even really try to talk to Max, anymore.

She was still trying to pretend Max just wanted her space, and she’d send some thoughtful letter, she’d respond in some meaningful way, she’d come right back into her life like it was two years ago and nothing had changed between them.

And Chloe knew she’d fucking take Max right back like the pathetic idiot she was.

Chloe had been seeing a therapist for her ‘depression’, and while she didn’t really open up to him, either, the pills she got from it were nice.

They didn’t suddenly fix her fucked brain or anything, but they did make it easier to enjoy things here and there.

Almost like this was sustainable, and her life had meaning or purpose or something.

Chloe had learned she really enjoyed drawing graffiti.

Symbolic of everything about her, it was a waste, of course.

She had actual drawing skills and she was wasting it making dumb doodles on bathroom stalls or whatever – blah blah blah.

But she still enjoyed it.

It gave her something to do when she was bored out of her fucking mind on campus – when she even bothered to go, anymore.

Attendance wasn’t optional, but pretty much all of her teachers had given up on her by now, so it was whatever.

Wells wasn’t happy, but, who cares.

He was never happy with her.

She was making such a good use of that fucking scholarship everyone was so proud of her for getting …

Ugh.

Because Max wasn’t really talking to her anymore, but she still wanted to talk to Max, Chloe did the obvious and not-pathetic thing of writing letters to Max and just not sending them, since, what was the point.

She was a little unfair in her letters, sometimes, and her resentment at Max’s abandonment wasn’t always properly controlled.

But mostly, she just talked to Max like she would if she was still here.

She wrote down stuff about her life.

About her dad.

About the shit she was going through.

About how she didn’t bother with school anymore.

About how much of a disappointment she was to everyone.

About everything, really.

She kept a nice stack of them in her desk, and it felt … good, to get it out there.

She wasn’t really going to talk to her therapist about most of this shit, but at least someone might eventually know.

Maybe she’d show them to Max, in some years, when Chloe had either graduated and dropped out and moved to somewhere else.

They always planned on only living with each other when they could afford the gold paint for their home …

It was therapeutic, in a way.

Cathartic.

It was just another thing that gave her something to do so she wouldn’t go stir-crazy.

As the days ticked by, Chloe learned about some more things that kept her busy.

She went to the junkyard and tinkered with stuff.

Not like in a productive way, or anything, just to kill time.

If she wasn’t such a pathetic disappoint fuckup, she might have made a few inventions, or something.

But she was, so she didn’t.

She was getting pretty good at skateboarding and was kinda friends with some of the stoner idiots who also enjoyed skateboarding.

She spent a lot of time listening to music, of all kinds, but mostly heavier and emotional stuff.

She killed a lot of time just wasting away on the internet, doing nothing in particular except looking up dumb cat photos or something.

She watched a lot of nerdy movies, particularly sci-fi ones.

The escapism was nice.

And weed, of course.

She’d started smoking as soon as she became kinda friends with the stoner idiots and suddenly had connections, and it was amazing.

When she was high, she could literally do nothing all day long and enjoy it.

Exactly the kind of thing she needed.

But she was also broke as shit, so it wasn’t something she could do that often.

She enjoyed it whenever she could scrape together enough money for it, though.

 

Every day was exactly the same, for Chloe, these days.

Just get through it one day at a time.

Chloe didn’t really know what she was living for, and she felt so lost and misunderstood in the world, but maybe this is just how her life was.

Maybe she was always meant to be lost, confused, and misunderstood.

It was getting harder to forget what it was like not to be.

 

\---

 

One day, something weird happened to Chloe.

She woke up, but things were … different.

Her hair was long again.

She was wearing her older, more girly clothes.

She felt warm.

She was sitting in the backseat of … no.

The old family car …

Before …

“Chloe! Do you mind comin’ out about front and helping me with this?”

Chloe blinked.

No way.

The hood of the car was up so she couldn’t see – but she knew that voice – of course she did -

She turned and got out of the car and walked around to the front in a daze.

Her dad was hunched over the front of the car, looking at the engine.

Chloe blinked, but giggled, and immediately sprinted until she could wrap her arms around him and hug him so tight.

In a hug she’d been wanting to give for two full years.

“Dad!”

She felt like she was going to cry, but she had to be strong.

She was always strong around her dad.

He was like her suit of armor.

William chuckled, and after a second or two too long, he stood up straight and patted at Chloe’s back.

Chloe was so warm.

“Yes yes … thanks for making my legs numb, kiddo, now ---”

He cupped her chin to force it gently up into looking at him,

“--- Help me with this, won’t you? Dadderino needs a favor.”

Chloe blinked at how casual he was being, but nodded and detached herself from his side.

“Uh … sure, of course, d-dad.”

The unreality of the situation was starting to wear off as the warmth from her dad melted away any frigid coldness.

He smiled and laughed happily.

He raised both of his hands on either side of his body.

“Wonderful!”

Afterwards, he looked back to the engine, and Chloe’s eyes followed him.

“You remember how to change a spark plug?”

Chloe nodded thoughtlessly.

“Yeah …”

She could change a sparkplug in her fucking sleep.

William smiled, smiled, smiled, and reached over to find some new sparkplugs, and handed them to Chloe.

She sort of awkwardly took them while he used a work cloth to rub his hands clean.

“Good, good. Y’mind changing them on ‘ol Betty here?”

Chloe blinked, and looked between William, the sparkplugs, and the engine.

“Why can’t you do it?”

Not that she was complaining, but …

William chuckled and placed the work cloth back on the edge of the engine bay.

He crossed his arms.

“I would, but wouldn’t y’know it, some darn aliens came and zapped the info right out of my ‘ol noggin.”

For emphasis, he broke a hand away from being crossed to knock at his own head, and Chloe couldn’t help but to giggle.

Afterwards, he recrossed his arms and just smiled down at his daughter.

“Besides.”

His expression suddenly became a lot more neutral, thoughtful, and his voice uncharacteristically serious.

“I want to see you do it, Chloe. I know you can.”

Chloe smiled, and didn’t need much more convincing.

She took to changing the spark plugs while William watched her and rubbed affectionately at her back.

After a few seconds of watching, he started to talk again.

“Sweetie?”

Chloe blinked, but didn’t look up,

“Yeah?”

William breathed in deep.

“I know you and Max go on lots of fun adventures, but … sometimes it’s better to stay in, isn’t it?”

Chloe blinked but continued to work.

“Yeah …?”

William smiled.

“Life isn’t really about the destination of your adventure. It’s really … just about the people and relationships you make along the way. Your --- how do the French say it? --- le journey.”

Chloe rolled her eyes a little at her dad’s preaching, since he had a habit of it and the very obvious not-French.

“Then I guess I’m doing pretty kickass there ---”

William gently patted her back,

“--- dollar for the swear jar! ---”

Chloe giggled and rolled her eyes again,

“--- I guess I’m doing pretty _awesome_ at life then …”

William blinked and made an exaggerated, silly humming sound.

“And why’s that?”

Chloe looked up to her dad and smiled.

“Because I have you, mom, and Max.”

William smiled, and leaned down to lovingly place a kiss on his daughter’s scalp, which made her giggle and squirm a little but his hand was there to keep her from shying away from it.

When he pulled away, though, his face was more sober, and neutral again.

“Keep an open mind, is all I’m saying. Y’never know how long your old man is going to last before he croaks, after all.”

Chloe scoffed, and even though her dad’s tone was pretty serious, she still read it as more playful banter, and she went back to changing the spark plug.

“I don’t need anyone else.”

William hummed thoughtfully.

“Maybe you will, sometime soon …”

Chloe scoffed, but when she looked up to him, he was suddenly gone.

She blinked.

“Dad?”

No response.

Chloe looked around, and although the scenery around her looked different somehow, she didn’t see him anywhere.

That’s strange.

He was just here.

He had a habit of disappearing, sometimes, but he usually didn’t wander too far.

He probably just went into the car to check for something, or something.

With a frown, she put the sparkplugs down on any surface she could, cleaned her hands with the work cloth, and walked around the car.

She gasped and made such a pathetic sound when she saw William’s body in the driver’s seat, and the side of the car horribly mangled from the impact, and the blood, and the ---

 

\---

 

Chloe woke up with a shuddering gasp.

God … fucking … damn it.

She looked around, and she –

Chloe realized what had happened with a whimpering sigh.

She was back in her room, as everything should be.

What a fucking dream.

It felt so real …

That was new.

She sometimes dreamed about memories of her dad, but they were never lucid.

And they were never nightmares, like that.

Seeing his body like that …

Chloe shivered, and tried to shake the thought of her mind by physically shaking her head.

No.

She wasn’t going to think about that.

Fuck.

She thought she was getting better about this stuff, too.

How long was she going to be moody about it?

Everyone said to just get over it, already, in so many words.

This bullshit was so unfair.

Chloe sighed.

But everything about life was so unfair.

No news there.

Thoughtlessly, she pulled out her phone, and started texting Justin, one of the idiot stoner skaters.

_dude i need like three whole marijuanas rn_

She didn’t expect a response for a while, since it was way too early in the goddamn morning, but one came soon, anyway.

_right on! but save it for the show tonight man_

Chloe blinked.

_dude what show. and why tf you up. making out with trevor again or smth?_

Another quick response.

_no homo there and firewalk dude! how did you forget_

Chloe blinked again.

How _did_ she forget.

She was planning on this for _weeks_.

_idk I just had one hell of a trippy dream and i’m kinda out of it_

She sighed and put her phone down for a few seconds.

The show tonight was exactly the kind of thing she needed to take her mind off of everything.

Especially if these dreams were going to become a more regular part of her life …

Her phone vibrated, and she brought it back up.

_well whatever it is get over it before the show tonight man. rachel's gonna be there and you don’t wanna miss your girlfriend_

Chloe scoffed.

Rachel Amber was … she was something else, but she wouldn’t even talk to Chloe.

Why would she.

Chloe was just some wasted potential.

Some idiot skateboard stoner.

Rachel was like a goddess in comparison.

Rachel could do literally anything, it seemed like, and now she was going to rock out, too?

Fuck.

Still, the accusation stuck to her, and she frowned.

Chloe wasn’t gay.

_no homo there_

The next response was basically instant.

_i believe that as much as you believe me when I say it_

Chloe groaned, and put her phone down.

God damn it, Justin.

Whatever.

Chloe wasn’t gay for Rachel, or any other woman.

Rachel was just … amazing.

Anyone would want to be her friend.

And many certainly tried.

Chloe was going to try and put the thought of her being there out of her mind.

She knew she was going to over-think it otherwise.

And for now, she just wanted to relax.

 

She couldn’t help herself, though.

All throughout the day, Chloe wondered how Rachel might look at the show.

Her style wasn’t really punk rock …

Would she do something else with her hair, maybe?

Or just kinda put on like a cap or something?

Pony tail?

Rachel in a pony tail.

Chloe wasn’t aware of the fact she spent most of the day thinking about Rachel.

But it was just another thing to do.

It kept her sane, like anything else.

 

An hour or two before the show was set to start, Chloe was in her room, staring at herself in the mirror.

Over the years, her room had gotten a little damaged and messy and she’d punkified it a little, but it was still recognizably her room.

Kind of like a metaphor for herself.

Chloe looked herself up and down in the mirror.

This jacket was something else – a fun project that distracted her for a while.

Some studs, little skulls.

It looked badass, and she looked badass in it.

To complete the look she got some studded wrap bracelets and other manner of the many-bracelets she usually wore, and smirked at herself as she checked herself out in the mirror.

She wondered what Max would think of her if she saw her now.

Probably say something dorky.

Max going to a concert … getting in a mosh pit.

Chloe scoffed and shook her head with a gentle smile.

Max totally would, too, if Chloe dragged her along into it.

Chloe wondered what Rachel would think of the getup, too.

Or what she’d think of Max.

Chloe checked her phone.

She ought to get going, the mill was pretty far away.

She put her phone away and snuck out her window.

 

Whatever Rachel thought, Chloe supposed she was going to find out in a little while.

If Rachel would even talk to her.

But she wasn’t going for this just because Rachel would be there.

Right?

Right.

She was going there to have a good time.

Who cares what Rachel thought about things.

Certainly not Chloe.

Chloe was the careless punk.

The stoner loser.

The wasted potential.

There’s no way Rachel and Chloe’s circles would ever intertwine.

She should just stop thinking about this crap and focus on the show.

 

Chloe wasn’t aware of the fact she spent the entire time to the mill thinking about Rachel.

Whatever.

 

Time to rock out.


End file.
